Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Matthew
Seeing Cornwall’s maudlin reaction, Matthew worried about pushing too hard, especially in front of witnesses, and when he gave his coin a surreptitious flip, it agreed.
So, he let the topic of the hunting lodge, his father, and the other dukes drop.
As they played, Cornwall rallied, but it was clear his focus was not entirely on the game. He was not playing at his usual level.
After taking some of their money, Matthew moved on, but kept an eye on Cornwall. As did Drake.
When the earl got to his feet, Matthew quickly flipped his coin again, then got to his feet to follow the earl. He sauntered from the room as if he’d just had enough of playing, and grinned when he heard the sigh of relief behind him. No one was going to question his departure.
“Cornwall,” he called out, catching the man halfway through the room. The earl stopped and turned, and his face fell when he saw who was speaking. “A moment of your time, if you will?”
Obviously bracing himself, Cornwall nodded. Perhaps he thought Matthew would want to harangue him for his father’s death, but hopefully, Matthew would be able to put the other man’s mind at ease quickly enough.
“Let me buy you a drink,” Matthew said, signaling to the barkeep before gesturing at an empty table nearby. The pub side was still fairly empty, giving them a nice selection of seating and plenty of tables between them and the other patrons.
Cornwall looked at Matthew, confusion clear in his expression, but he slowly sat down. “You want to buy me a drink?”
“You seem upset.” Matthew shrugged. Besides, a drink would likely loosen Cornwall’s tongue more than anything else.
The barkeep brought two mugs over and slid them in front of Matthew and Cornwall.
Cornwall immediately took his in both hands, his fingers curling around the handle and the mug, pulling it in front of him as his head dropped down to stare into its depths.
Bringing his own to his lips, Matthew took a sip and was pleasantly surprised at the taste.
“You know my father’s death was not your fault,” he said conversationally, to open the topic.
If Cornwall knew anything useful when he had not been there was questionable, but now that they’d tracked him down, Matthew felt as though he should at least attempt to find out if Cornwall knew anything.
They did not have any other clues at the moment, unless Drake’s men finally tracked down Gregory’s former steward, Arthur Montblanc.
At the very least, he could discover why Cornwall had invited the former Duke of Hereford, who had already owed him a great sum of money, to the trip.
Perhaps Cornwall’s guilt was because he had not known the other dukes would die as well.
The note Montblanc had left Gregory certainly indicated he had not fully understood what he had become involved in.
He’d wanted justice for his niece, who had been raped by Gregory’s father, but there was no reason for him to have a grudge against any of the other dukes.
Perhaps Cornwall had wanted to punish Nathanial’s father for lack of payment and had realized he would never get his money anyway, but he had not meant for the others to perish as well.
“I know.” Cornwall finally lifted the mug and took a large swig. “I do know that.” He sounded grim but firm, as though he was repeating words to himself he’d said before but did not quite believe yet.
“If you were there, you might have died alongside him and the other dukes,” Matthew pointed out.
“I know. I do keep thinking, though…” Cornwall’s voice trailed off, and he stared down into the mug again.
Drake stepped into the pub as Cornwall fell silent again and nodded to Matthew.
“Ah, here is Ormonde,” Matthew said cheerfully, as if he had just noticed Drake and not as if they’d come here together for a purpose.
Lifting his hand, he gave Drake a wave. “He will tell you. Ormonde, Cornwall here is feeling a surfeit of guilt because he was invited to the trip with our fathers but was too ill to attend.”
Moving to the empty chair beside Cornwall, Drake tilted his head. He looked slightly exasperated—likely wondering what Matthew had been saying when he was not there to listen—but he did not remonstrate him.
“No reason for that,” Drake said, keeping his voice amiable and matching Matthew’s tone. “It would have done the country no good to have you dead, too.”
“Yes, but not everyone died.” Cornwall shook his head. “Your fathers. Some of the servants. None of the other noblemen. The dukes were all in the same section of the cabin. I asked Martingale.”
Martingale, being the marquess who had hosted the event. He’d survived, as had the other two marquesses and the other earl who had attended, just as Cornwall said. They’d been on the other side of the lodging when the explosion happened.
“I did as well,” Drake said with a nod. “My understanding is he felt they should all be grouped together by rank.” And if Drake accepted that understanding, Matthew knew it had been thoroughly investigated.
It was also hardly an unusual state of affairs.
“It was poor luck they were on the side where the explosion and fire hit hardest.”
Although his tone was neutral, it was also tight, and Matthew shot him a sympathetic look.
Drake, along with Zachary and Sebastian, truly grieved his father as they had been rather close.
Whereas Matthew’s feelings were much more complicated.
It was true he’d respected his father, but in many ways, the death of his pater had given him more relief than anything else.
He was somewhere between them and Nathanial—who likely would have done a jig on his father’s grave if not for the deaths of the other dukes—in his feelings.
“Poor luck and an extremely unhappy accident.” Cornwall took another large swig of his drink and shook his head. “I cannot help but think… if I had not invited Hereford… his is the death that can be attributed to me.”
“Nathanial did say his father owed you a great deal of money,” Drake said delicately, leaning forward onto his elbows as he folded his arms on the table in front of him.
“He did.” Cornwall shook his head. “But no sum is worth a man’s life.”
“Were you hoping he might bring the funds with him when you invited him?” Matthew asked.
Cornwall nodded.
“Though I did not have much hope of it. Either way, I would not be gambling with him, but I thought perhaps I could collect… and if anyone chose to include him in a game after that, well, that was at their own peril.” He looked away, pensive.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time, though I had been drinking when it was suggested to me.”
“It was suggested to you?” Drake asked, drolly casual, as if he had not a care in the world.
If Cornwall realized he was being interrogated, he did not show it. If anything, he seemed almost relieved to talk, as though he’d been carrying around a great weight inside him that he could finally put down.
Drake asked most of the questions, getting Cornwall to tell them everything, though there was not much to tell.
He’d been out with friends, playing and drinking, and at some point during the evening, the discussion had gone round to the hunting lodge.
One of them told him that Hereford had recently come into some winnings and suggested that Cornwall invite him to the lodge, so as to have a place to collect the debt.
“I played with him—Hereford—the very next night, and he confirmed that he was recently flush, but he did not have the money on him at the moment. So, I invited him to join us at the hunting lodge and pay me back then.” Cornwall snorted. “I doubt he did, though.”
By the time they finished, Cornwall was completely foxed, yet seemed happier than he had been earlier.
His load was lightened after telling them everything, at least some of his guilt absolved.
Perhaps because they had not condemned him.
Drake was more frustrated than anything because he did not have the knowledge they sought.
He could not even remember who had suggested that he invite Hereford to the lodge.
Possibly Carmathan. Possibly the Earl of Hatchett.
Possibly the Earl of Conyngham. Possibly the former Duke of Grafton or his brother, the Marquess of Selter.
Or possibly someone else whom he could not remember being present that night.
It did at least give them a list to start with, though Matthew was not certain that suggesting Hereford be invited to a gathering was an indication of anything nefarious.
On the other hand, it was not as if they had anything else to investigate.
At the very least, if they fully investigated, they could mark off the possibility.
Helping Cornwall stumble back to his carriage, practically carrying him between them, they got him tucked away and watched it roll down the street before looking at each other. Drake took a deep breath, then tilted his head back to look up at the sky. The sun was much lower now.
“We should gather the others to discuss,” he said, his head dropping back down. “Let’s go to my house. I will send them notes to come and meet us.”
“My home is closer,” Matthew pointed out. “So is Hereford House.”
“But full of people, including your new wife.” Drake glanced at him.
“And after Kalina was eavesdropping on Nathanial, I do not believe conversations there will be very secure either. The ladies are getting far too involved in the investigations. Only Hatchett is married among the men Cornwall spoke of, and he and his wife are hardly close; therefore, we do not need the ladies to question their wives. I would rather keep them out of it.”